


We Time

by Amoreanonyname



Series: We Time [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Fluff and Angst, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Slightly crack, Sort Of, Wincest - Freeform, gencest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoreanonyname/pseuds/Amoreanonyname
Summary: Missing scene from early Season 10. They needed time away. Somewhere quiet, secluded.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: We Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734664
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	We Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm starting a series about the Winchesters on vacation. From what I've written so far, most of this will consist of "Sam and Dean longing for each other but each convinced the other does not feel the same way." There will be more where this came from!

It was over.

The blood and the killing and the not sleeping and the constant, constant fear. 

Dean was back. He was cured. For now. The Mark was still there, they’d still need to deal with that, but they had some time.

They needed time away. Somewhere quiet, secluded. Sam found a cabin by a lake, middle of nowhere, no wi-fi. Handed the keys to Dean, partially reluctant but partially grateful. Dean, trying very, very hard to slot them back into their roles, fussed over Sam, all but ordered him to sleep during the drive. 

For the first week, that was basically all they did. They were both exhausted.

The second week, they slowly came back to life, but it was… odd. Strange. A lot to talk about, a lot they didn’t want to talk about. Sam didn’t want to push him, and he wasn’t keen to talk about the things he’d done either. But he knew they’d have to eventually. 

Times like these, all hunters need a little liquid help. They’d packed enough booze to drown a football team. Eventually, Dean got into the whiskey. Eventually, the dam broke. 

Nighttime. Their room. Two beds, a few feet apart. Sam was closest to the door, sitting up and swaying. Dean was steadier, but a loose smile around the edge of his lips gave away his own drunkenness. 

They both knew what tonight was for, but they avoided it anyway. Bantered about god knows what else. Anything else. Sam barely paid attention. Eventually, Dean’s mood grew serious, contemplative.

“Sammy, you know… you know I _did_ stuff. While I was, while I was gone.”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I know. At least some of it. I was tryin’ to track you down. So I knew some of what you were doing. I can guess there was more.”

“You haven’t asked. Don’t you wanna know?”

“Honestly? Not really. It doesn’t matter, Dean. I guess, I guess I just don’t _care_.”

Dean looked almost surprised at this, and seemed to take a moment digesting it. It was true, a long time ago Sam would have been trying to get Dean to talk about it, every detail, work through it _together_. But now, he’d lived long enough to know. He’d done enough to know. He knew his brother well enough to know. Talking didn’t always help.

Dean looked up, still slurry, still drunk. Looking suddenly small, vulnerable. Sam hated it.

_“Can you ever forgive me?”_

_“I already have”_ , Sam whispered, choking slightly on the words. And he hated Dean sitting there, looking so small, his eyes watery, looking so unsure. Dean was never supposed to look like that. Sam, Sam was the one who wasn’t sure, who didn’t know, who always had things happening to him. Dean was the one who was there, always, always there, always comforting, always protecting, always doing anything he could, and a whole lot that he couldn’t, to take the pain away. Dean was the one who forgave Sam absolutely everything, no matter how bad. 

_“Sammy”_ , Dean choked. The booze and the memories and whatever leftover terror Dean was still dealing with. And Sam just couldn’t anymore. Sank to his knees between their beds. Already so close together, landing between Dean’s knees. Sam needed, he _needed_. His brother. He needed comfort, he needed to know his brother was here, not a demon, not a corpse. He needed to know he didn’t have to be stronger for a minute.

Between his brother’s knees, Sam buried his face in Dean’s shirt. He was a little kid, he was five, he’d fallen off his bike, he’d skinned his knee, he’d had a nightmare. He hadn’t done this since he was small. Buried his face in his brother’s stomach and clung to him. 

When Dean had been a demon, he’d smelled different. Sam could tell anytime he got in close. He couldn’t figure out exactly why, but it had jarred him every time. Now, two weeks later, Dean was back smelling like _Dean_. Sam breathed deeply. Dean’s hands, one on his shoulder, the other clutching Sam’s hair.

Not little kids anymore. The closeness and the feelings and the booze and the physical contact, different things came up between them as adults. Before he could stop himself, Sam ran his nose across Dean’s stomach. Dean stiffened, but his hands stayed rooted on Sam. From between Dean’s legs, Sam could _feel_. And for a moment, he _wanted_. He wanted to be closer, he wanted to feel _everything_ , he wanted to be under Dean’s skin, he wanted release he hadn’t had in so, so long. He wanted them to never be apart again. 

And in a moment, he realized how wrong that was. Pulled his face away, looked up. Dean was staring at him, looking nearly sober, his lips parted. And if Sam was any drunker than he was, he would almost think Dean wanted too.

Sam withdrew back to his own bed. Hopefully they’d forget about this in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is welcome! Good, bad, ugly, hit me with it all.


End file.
